Not You
by rosesinjanuary
Summary: If something ever happened to you...
1. Swan Song

My version of the story that everyone has/will be writing. ;-) I promise to finish "Here and Now" before too long, but this one just had to be written.

Takes place (obviously) during "Swan Song" and "Pyramid" - spoilers for both episodes, though fairly minor.

* * *

><p>She was laughing with Cade, as he told her some joke involving a misunderstanding of an obscure dialect, when McGee came to tell her.<p>

"Abby," he said, and she didn't turn around right away, because it was late, and they were finally done for the night, and he was probably just stopping by to pointedly say goodnight, with his jealous face on.

"_Abby,"_ he said again, insistently this time, and she turned now, partially because she kind of liked his jealous face, and also because there was something in his voice that sent a prickle down her spine.

As soon as she saw his expression, she knew. "Who?" she asked. She took a half step towards him and then stopped. If she didn't get any closer, maybe it wouldn't be true.

"Franks."

Abby didn't remember taking the ten steps it took to get to him, but she was glad she made it before her knees turned to jelly. McGee caught her, and held on, and she didn't fall. She'd hugged Mike right on this spot, not even a day ago, barely more than twelve hours, and now McGee was holding her and telling her he was dead. Dimly, she heard Cade say her name, but it didn't matter.

He was nice, and she was sure he wanted to help, but he wasn't a part of this.

McGee gave her a moment for the first shock to wear off, then squeezed her tight. "C'mon," he murmured, "I'll take you back down to your lab."

He always knew just what she needed.

#

She couldn't cry. Not yet.

It always hit her like this. (And she hated that it had happened enough that she knew how it always hit her.) The first moments of horrible, overwhelming grief, and then this strange semi-numbness. She couldn't focus, or think straight. She picked things up and put them down randomly, pacing, knowing better than to try and actually work.

McGee stood by her computers, adjusting his position to stay out of her way as she paced, watching her without obviously staring, answering her questions when he could, absorbing her occasional bursts of anger when he couldn't.

Eventually, she would cry. But right now she couldn't.

His phone pinged, and he checked the screen. "I've got to go," he told her. "They've got everything together and we're leaving for the scene."

Somewhere, she made a note to be grateful to Tony and Ziva for letting McGee come and stay with her while they gathered their gear and gassed the truck. She would thank them, later. When she could feel.

"Be careful," Abby said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.

He pulled her into a hug. "You know we will be. Will you be all right here until I get back?"

She was ridiculously thankful that he was coming back. That she didn't even have to ask; he just knew she would need him to come back. She tightened her grip around his waist.

"Yeah. Just come back soon."

He was halfway out the door when she called after him. "McGee!" He was going to the crime scene; he'd have to see the body, see Gibbs, process evidence of the death of one of their family…again. "Will you be okay? Until you get back?"

He looked so different than when Kate had died – just as sad, but more resigned now, instead of bewildered. Older.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll be fine."

#

McGee sent her a text when they were on their way back, and she was waiting for him. Crying, because the numbness had worn off and she had nothing to do to distract her, not until they brought back everything from the crime scene.

He carried the box of evidence into the lab, set it on the table she'd carefully and methodically cleaned off. Then he crossed to her chair, and wrapped his arms around her.

Now the tears came more easily, because McGee was there to hold her again. His arms, his shoulder, his voice in her ear, attempting to say comforting things but failing miserably because it kept breaking.

It helped that he tried, though.

It took a long time, but finally Abby cried herself out. McGee passed her tissues, and she blew her nose while she studied his face. He looked as drained as she felt. "I'm sorry you had to do that," she said softly. "I'm sorry you had to go there, and see Mike like that. I'm so, so sorry."

He took one of her tissues and dabbed at a tear track on her cheek. "It's okay. It's done now. We can…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "We can just work on the evidence."

They were good at evidence. They were especially good at evidence together. Better when it involved computers, but this was okay too. Having McGee there soothed her enough to manage the first sort-through as they unpacked.

At least until she pulled out the murder weapon.

She stared at the scalpel until McGee touched her hand. "You okay?"

"I need to see him," Abby said. "Just…just to say goodbye."

She wasn't sure whether she expected him to argue with her, but he didn't. Just nodded. "Okay. Ducky probably hasn't started the autopsy yet. I'll go with you."

Abby clung to his arm as they headed for the elevator, and stopped when she found out there were still a few tears left in her. "Tim…"

"Shhh," he said, and wrapped her in his arms again. "It's going to be okay."

The elevator 'ding'ed while they were still holding one another. She looked over, and saw Tony wiping tears off Ziva's cheeks.

It was just as private a moment as she and McGee has been caught in, so they were all even.


	2. Pyramid

It was one of the longest days in the entire history of days, and McGee was not making it any shorter.

"Where are you going?" she asked irritably as he followed her. The closeness she'd desperately needed yesterday now grated on her nerves.

As usual, when they had days like this.

He had that annoying incredibly determined look on his face. "I'm going with you. As long as Cobb's still on the loose we're not taking any chances."

God, would this day never end? "No, McGee, shoo." She waved him off. Generally when she was horribly condescending, he would eventually go away in a huff. "I can take care of myself."

Her words did not appear to have much of an effect. "Abby, this is not just another random suspect. This guy is very bad news, and if something ever happened to you, I would –"

It wasn't his jealous face. It was, instead, something she wasn't entirely sure of.

"You'd what, McGee?"

He hesitated, then gave an odd miniscule half nod, half shrug. And there was something in his eyes she hadn't seen in a long time. Something she thought she'd lost forever.

She wanted to cry again, but she was too exhausted. So she just hugged him tight instead, her irritation fading.

#

There weren't any purple kittens or flying elephants in her dreams. Just McGee, lying in the hospital bed looking pale and drawn, with the doctors telling her that they couldn't promise anything, just where she'd seen Cade that morning. And then the dream shifted and he was on the autopsy table instead, where Franks and Levin had been, and his eyes wouldn't open, now matter how much she pleaded with him.

Abby jerked awake in her coffin, her breathing quick and sharp. She'd only gotten about an hour of sleep, but she needed to see him, to know that he was all right.

She padded out to the living room in the black tank top and skull-spattered shorts she'd been sleeping in, and stopped with a smile. McGee had apparently planned on working, since his laptop was sitting on her coffee table. But at some point he must have given up, and now he was fast asleep on her couch, with his feet propped beside his computer and his hand less than an inch from his gun, which he'd placed on the table next to him.

Her very own obviously exhausted, slightly wrinkled, fiercely protective knight in shining armor.

She ducked back into her room and grabbed her grandmother's quilt, which she'd wrapped herself up in to fall asleep, and tiptoed back out to the couch. Keeping a careful eye on his gun hand – his reflexes, while not quite at Ziva-level, were more than adequate, and she didn't want to startle him _too _much – she covered him with the quilt and then crept underneath it herself, curling up beside him.

It was his turn to jerk awake, and she saw his hand move towards the gun on the table before he registered that it was her. He relaxed back into the couch, shifting so that he could slide his arm around her waist. "You should still be sleeping," he mumbled.

Abby lay her head on his shoulder. "Bad dreams."

"S'okay," he told her. "I would never let anything happen to you. None of us would."

It wasn't herself she was worried about.

"McGee, do you know why I stayed at the hospital with Cade all night?"

There was a pause. "Because he's your 'friend,'" he said grudgingly.

"Partly," she admitted. "And he's a nice guy, and his family's far away, and he deserved to have someone there with him. But mostly it was because I felt guilty."

He twisted his head to look down at her. "What do you have to feel guilty about?" he asked.

She tightened the arm she'd wrapped across his stomach. "Because all I could think when I found out about him and Levin was how grateful I was it wasn't you. Not that he was still alive, but just that it _wasn't you._ Lying in that hospital, or down in Autopsy." She lifted her eyes to his. "Tim, if something ever happened –"

She didn't even make it as far into the sentence as he had. There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't talk past. So she put her head back down on his shoulder and snuggled in closer.

McGee rested his chin on top of her head. "Go back to sleep," he said after a moment of silence. "We still have a few hours before we have to head in."

#

Her couch was definitely not designed for sleeping, and they both woke stiff and cramped when it was time to go back to work.

It didn't seem to matter much.

FIN


End file.
